And when I turn to her she is but a ghost
by Kaesteranya
Summary: Hijikata and Okita-centric flash fiction, all of which revolve around Mitsuba, Okita's sister. There will be spoilers everywhere, of course, for the Mitsuba arc, and Mitsuba herself will be dropping in every now and then.
1. Commitment is a sin unto one’s self

**Commitment is a sin unto one's self**

_Theme date: December 25, 2007._

_Spoilers for the later (and heaven forbid, serious) arcs of the series; we also note that senbei are spicy chips._

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He used to think stupid things just before he went to bed, or went out on a mission, or during those rare moments when he almost doubted the decisions he had made as the Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi. Stupid things meant snippets of her smile in his memory, a reflection of her eyes in his sake, an echo of her voice just within his ear, and the occasional daydream of the day he could finally come and see her and stand proud as he held her hand and said exactly what he would never be able to say to her, under present circumstances.

Silence and duty cost him a lot more than he would let on to his comrades — it had, for one, cost him Okita's friendship, and he paid for it in matters silly and serious, small and large. Sometimes, the frustration would reach breaking point, and he'd be tempted to break a few pieces of furniture and shout a little and just generally explain himself and get the treatment that he rightfully deserved, but what stopped him was the realization that she probably didn't like the idea of him fighting with her beloved — her _only _— brother.

Now, as he sat on a rooftop in the wind and cold eating her last bag of senbei, Hijikata discovered that in some sense, he had a lot to regret, more than he would ever be able to say or live by.


	2. Accursed be he that first invented war

**Accursed be he that first invented war.**

_Spoilers for the Mitsuba Arc of the anime. The title's taken from the 31 Days theme for February 8, 2008._

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Sometimes, Okita catches Hijikata sitting out on the patio beyond his room, cross-legged, back against the shoji walls, eyes on the horizon, smoking, looking up at the sky. A bag of _senbei_ has replaced his usual jar of mayonnaise, and his pack is almost always half-empty, as if he smokes like a chimney and then some whenever Okita isn't looking.

Sometimes, he has the urge to walk over to the man, make a quip on how not eating mayonnaise doesn't become him, scold him for eating too much _senbei_ and how it'll make his breath stink even more than the mayonnaise. He could do it, he figures, and no one – not even Hijikata – will think that he's acting strange. Their comrades, of course. They've grown up together. It's the sort of thing that people who have grown up together do, even after all the heartbreak, all the miscommunication, all the loss and all the regret.

All of Edo, however, can't begin to encompass the size of Okita's pride, and he finds himself turning and walking away from Hijikata every single time, without ever saying a word.


	3. The way the blue sky suited her

**The way the blue sky suited her.**

_The title is taken from the 31 Days theme for July 15, 2009._

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They used to meet halfway, back then, every afternoon, rain or snow or sunshine: she'd go out early in the morning to do the groceries, and a few hours later, he'd cut practice short to rush a shower and stuff a meat bun in his mouth to eat as he walked along. Fifteen minutes of walking down the well-travelled main road each, for both of them, and then, out in the middle and by the river, they'd see each other.

"Ah, Hijikata-san!" (She always sounded more surprised than she actually was.)

"Ou. Kondo told me to help you with those." (But Kondo never actually said anything of the sort.)

"Thank you."

Their fingers always touched over the handles of the plastic bags; their eyes always met for a split second longer than they should have before they both turned away, awkward and silent, and started walking home. On clear days, they walked side by side; on wet days and wintry ones, he made it a point to stay just a little ahead, to clear a path.

It was their ritual, walking back, watching each other, never saying much of anything at all. Later, on the evenings after her passing, it becomes Hijikata's nightly habit to pour a cup of sake and drink to the collection of all those small little quiet nothings between them and the image of Mitsuba just at his shoulder, back dropped against green, blue and the reflection of the sunlight over water.


	4. As if tired from their pilgrimage

**As if tired from their pilgrimage.**

_If you don't know who Mitsuba is and what happens to her, you probably shouldn't be reading this. orz  
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_The title is taken from the 31 Days theme for October 23, 2009._

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Mitsuba had, in fact, known long before Hijikata Toshirou had ever denied her that their story was never going to end with the two of them together, happy and whole. She was an intelligent woman, and beyond that, the first and only daughter of an upstanding family. People like her, they had a sense for such things – had to, because it was the only way that they could keep their heads above the water when it all came pouring down.

Knowing, however, had never been enough to stop her from dreaming, which did not stop her from hoping, which eventually boiled down to her ill-fated confession out by the dojo. The drone of the cicadas had, at least, concealed the sound of her quiet little sobs, her tears hitting the stone tiles at her feet.

Her mourning period was not terribly long. She soon became content with standing still on the sidelines, watching her brother – watching him – from a distance. And the distance grew over the next few months, of course, until she found herself at the end of the road, watching their backs grow smaller against the horizon as they walked away from her for the last time, abandoning all for the sake of the Capital.

In the same way that she had known, back then, that it was never meant to be, Mitsuba also knows that this trip to Edo with her husband-to-be is going to be the last one she'll ever be able to make. She sees a little bit more blood on her handkerchief with each new cough, feels a little more worn and tired with each passing day – her time is ending, regardless of what the doctors tell her.

So she leaves with her fiancé, against all reason and the pleading of her physician, to be at least a drive away from the one person she ever loved. Selfish, perhaps, but the dying must be given their due.

Later, as she spots little else beyond a glimpse of an older and colder Hijikata moving past her room, Mitsuba realizes that she has precious little left for her to regret.

Later, as she draws her last breath with the warmth of her brother's face against her palm, Mitsuba shuts her eyes and dreams of summer evenings stained in the green glow of fireflies, and the way their light looked reflected in a pair of sharp blue eyes.


End file.
